Our Little Girl
by dauntlesszemrys
Summary: Fluffy parent!lock oneshot. Warning: may make your eyes a little misty


John watched the family videos and felt tears spring to his eyes. A three year old Imogen with straight pigtails of black hair sat on Sherlock's lap, who kissed her cheek happily, smiling stupidly at John when he had figured out the identity of every present under the Christmas tree. John was holding the camera and swat Sherlock's knees from behind it. Imogen was ripping apart a present from Sherlock, a book set of historical female figures through the ages. The little girl's green eyes widened in amazement and shock, and then she turned and tackled Sherlock in a huge hug, threading her skinny little arms around his neck. The consulting detective smiled one of his rare smiles and laughed at the child's excitability.

The camera switched to Mrs. Hudson in her Christmas dressing gown walking through the door to the living room and smiled at the family, settling in beside Sherlock and Imogen. The scene cut and it picked up again at a family picture with Sherlock grumpily adjusting reindeer antlers on his head. John sighed at his husband's general distaste for frivolous activities like reindeer, Santa Clause, and other Christmas traditions. John gathered Imogen in his arms and she leaned over to her Papa, taking her fingers to the corners of his mouth and making him smile. John threw his head back and laughed when she hit Sherlock's nose and ordered him to smile because it was Christmas and Daddy wanted their pictures to look nice. Sherlock obeyed his orders and put on a big cheesy smile for their daughter.

The Christmas footage finished, only to show a bit of tape obviously filmed by Sherlock, if the shaky handiwork was any indication. Imogen was now about four, her long hair much thicker and trailing down her little body. She wore a purple dress and stood on John's toes, who danced with her to a slow song playing on the radio in the kitchen of the flat, the fluorescent lights illuminated her abnormally pale skin, so identical to Sherlock's. They had decided that Sherlock would be the Sperm Donor, and Harriet the carrier. John loved having another little consulting detective running around the flat, discovering things. John held her tiny hands and she had her pixie face turned up to John, cheekbones up in a wide smile. He swayed back and forth with her standing on his feet. Finally, Imogen noticed her Papa filming them and pointed at him with a laugh. The film cut and another scene showed, the first day of primary school for Imogen, already turning into a stunning beauty like her Papa.

More and more of important milestone in their daughter's life flashed before John's tired old eyes, a small little kid turned into a beautiful young lady, a teenager. The fazes and obsession climaxed then faded to obscurity. The last film was taken only a few weeks ago, at Imogen's 16th birthday. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft, and Harriet with Clara all stood around the cleaned off kitchen table. A beautiful young woman with green eyes, a heart shaped face, high cheekbones, and raven curls sat in front of a cake with the candles 16 on it. Sherlock stood next to John holding the camera, and a tear slid from the consulting detective's almost ageless face and he held a hand to his mouth trying not to sob in front of their guests. She blew out the candles and smiled when everyone clapped. Mrs. Hudson asked what she wished for and she said she didn't need to wish, because she had everything she could ever want.

Now John burst into tears on the couch, clutching the bunny doll she used to sleep with every night as a little girl. It was a tattered old thing that Sherlock and she both insisted on throwing away, but John kept it. Sentiment stayed his hand over the bin every time. Finally the film cut and he turned to find Sherlock standing in the doorway, obviously had for a while, with tears in his eyes also. After the fall, he had a much easier time showing his emotions to his doctor and love.

"Come over here and hug me you git," John demanded through tears. Sherlock smiled a bit and rushed over to John, hugging him tightly. After a while Imogen finally got back home from hanging with her friend, Tom.

"Papa? Daddy? Why are you crying?" She asked, concerned. She threw her boots off and snuggled in between her parents, all three now reclined on the couch.

"You are such a beautiful grown up girl Gen, we just love you so much and… and c-can't believe how quickly the time has gone by," John said to his little girl, petting her lovely curls. She smiled and laughed a bit kissing both men on their foreheads. "I love you both so much. You are never going to lose me, because I will never leave you. I'll never stop loving my mad Papa and my strong Daddy," She said softly.

That night, John and Sherlock snuggled into bed, Sherlock with his laptop because he hardly slept anyways and John on his shoulder listening to those long violinist fingers tapping away at the keyboard. At about 1 in the morning, Imogen walked down the stairs in her yoga pants and oversized RAMC shirt that John had given her, and she burrowed between her parents. "I love you Daddy, I love you Papa, goodnight," she whispered softly. And so John Watson-Holmes, Sherlock Watson-Holmes, and Imogen Watson-Holmes all curled up together as the most extraordinary of families and slept peacefully, listening to the sounds of London outside.


End file.
